Healing Molly
by PocketSizedWolf
Summary: A follow on from "Taking Molly", which probably should be read first.
1. Chapter 1

**This story follows on from "Taking Molly" (available at s/8119984/1/Taking-Molly ). You should PROBABLY read that one before this, however it is rated M, and for now, this one isn't. It likely will be in future chapters (because everyone loves Sherlolly smut). This is just a short starter chapter to help me reset the scene in my head, and also tease those of you who followed the original story, hehe. Anyway, enjoy.**

He looked around the room with pure hatred. There was a ball of it deep in his stomach and he couldn't get rid of it, no matter what he did. He tried going back to his boxing club, but beating the hell out of another man's face didn't help him. He was smoking again, but that wasn't helping either. He'd even tried cocaine again, but it didn't have the same effect it used to. If anything, it just made him feel guilty. He hated Moriarty, truly hated him. The man was brilliant, yes, but he was sick, twisted.. And he'd hurt Molly. His Molly. He'd make him pay for that, he really would.

Most of all, though, he hated himself. She'd been trapped in this room, the room below his flat, for a month and he'd not even noticed. He noticed everything and yet he'd not noticed that?

He'd spent the past few days coming into this room, looking to see if he could work out what they'd done to her. Her blood still stained the floor, the restraints were still in their places, one of the whips he'd found even had part of her flesh stuck to one of the blades. He'd thrown up after seeing that. Mycroft had paid to get the place completely redecorated, stripped of it's horrible secret. But the work wasn't due to start until Monday, which gave Sherlock two more days to mope around it, hating himself.

She never knew where she'd been held captive. Sherlock figured that was a blessing in disguise.

He moved out of 221c and walked up the stairs to his own flat. John sat in his armchair, chatting with the 'visitors' who plagued Sherlock's flat. He wanted them gone, but they seemed to never leave. Mrs Hudson was fussing about, Mycroft was explaining the new decor for the flat, Lestrade was discussing the ongoing investigation into the whereabouts of Moran and Moriarty. Sherlock didn't care to stay and listen, and simply moved into his bedroom, pushing the door closed behind him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly as he moved towards the figure in his bed. She looked up at him in a way that he'd not yet gotten used to. She was still Molly Hooper, but now everything seemed laced with a touch of fear. They'd broken her trust, and there was another reason for Sherlock to hate them. He sat on the opposite side of the bed, resting his back against the headboard and she slowly shifted herself until her head was in his lap. His fingers instantly moved to stroke her hair. They sat like this often, these days. Neither of them speaking. He was the only person she could trust now, or so she felt, and she was the only thing he cared about. His touch relaxed her and she felt safe for the first time in a long time.

"Have they found him?" she asked after a long silence. He looked down at her, his fingers still stroking her hair. Her eyes were closed, and had she not just asked him a question he would have assumed she was sleeping. He inhaled deeply before he spoke.  
"Not yet. But they will."  
"What if he comes back?"  
"He won't" Sherlock sighed, though he was pretty sure he was lying.  
"What if he does?"  
"Then I'll kill him." the answer seemed to satisfy her and she quietened. The warmth of her body against him was oddly reassuring, and it made him hate a little less. After a few minutes, he bent down and planted a kiss against her temple.  
"I won't let him take you again Molly.." he promised. "I love you."  
She didn't respond, and he slowly sat back up. Her chest was rising and falling more slowly now, her breathing steadied. He smiled as he watched her sleeping form for a few more minutes before gently shifting from under her, lying her back against the pillow before making his way out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly glanced around the room with a frown. She never thought she'd find herself in Sherlock Holmes' bedroom, let alone lying in his bed, tucked under the sheets. If she was truly honest, she never thought she'd find herself out of that room again and she never thought he'd come to rescue her. The feel of his duvet, soft and warm, around her, made it real. She was here. She was safe. The very thought brought tears to her eyes.

Lestrade had told her about how determined Sherlock had been to find her, how he'd insisted that it wasn't like her to take a sudden holiday from work no matter what emotional turmoil she'd found herself in. Molly couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised that Sherlock Holmes had known her so well and, more than that, he'd remembered those things.

She moved from the bed and shivered as the cold air brushed over her skin. She shuffled towards the door and pulled Sherlock's dressing gown from the back of it, slipping it on. It was far too big for her, and she had to fold the sleeves over to be able to use her hands, but it was warm, and she appreciated it. She opened the door to the bedroom and moved into the sitting room, almost instantly regretting it.

"Ah Molly, you're up" John smiled, and she found the eyes of four different people fixed upon her. She shivered under their gaze.  
"Can I get you a cup of tea, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked her softly, touching her arm. The gentle touch caused Molly to jump, but she nodded in response before John spoke again.  
"I was just telling Greg and Sally that you'd been getting better.." he nodded his head towards the two Scotland Yarders. Molly frowned. The last thing she remembered from her pre-abduction days was being intensely questioned about Moriarty by Sally Donovan, and seeing the Detective Sergeant again only made her uncomfortable.  
"I don't know anything.." she blurted out, her eyes wide as she moved backwards towards the door she'd just come through "Oh please, I can't stand the questions again, I don't know anything." she turned to flee back into the bedroom and bumped straight into a hard body.

Sherlock dropped the bags he'd been carrying and instantly wrapped his arms around Molly's form, glaring over the top of her head.  
"I thought I told you to leave her alone.." he growled, holding Molly close, his fingers running through her hair. His shirt was growing wet beneath her face and her breathing, he noted, was consistent with someone crying. The very thought of Molly in tears made him angry.  
"We weren't going to question her.." Lestrade protested as he rose from his seat, indicating that Sally should do the same. "We just wanted to see how she was. We'll get going, anyway. It's nice to see you out of bed, Molly.." he added as they moved past Sherlock and Molly, the former of whom was still glaring a death stare at the pair.

"Idiots.." he muttered once they'd gone, gently leading Molly into the sitting room and sitting upon the sofa, pulling her into his arms. "It's alright, Molly.. They've gone."  
"I'm sorry.. I feel so pathetic.." she sighed as she pulled back, forcing a smile as she took the cup of tea from Mrs Hudson. Her eyes were red, and Sherlock felt a pang of pain in his stomach. He didn't like to see her upset.  
"You're not pathetic, Molly.. You've been through something terrible, but I'll help you get through it, alright?" he smiled, brushing his thumb over her cheek. She nodded softly, leaning up and planting a soft kiss on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock watched her closely over the next couple of months as she slowly got better, both physically and mentally. Her scars had all healed and almost vanished, apart from the deep cuts on her stomach. She'd caught a glimpse of it in the mirror once and burst into tears. Jim's name on her flesh wasn't something she'd prepared for, but she was beginning to get over it and even that scar was healing at it's own pace. Sherlock had insisted that she see a therapist, one he personally picked out because he wasn't as much of an idiot as the rest of them, and slowly the Molly he knew was returning.

She woke up one morning to a large pair of arms wrapped around her body, a forehead pressed against her shoulder. She turned her head and looked at the mop of black, curly hair, planting a soft kiss to his forehead.  
"Oh you're awake.. I was just.."  
"Sleeping." she chuckled, turning in his arms  
"I was checking on you."  
"Sure you were..." she smiled, looking up into his face, kissing the corner of his mouth.  
"No, really. I was. You started to have a nightmare.. and I.. climbed in to calm you." "Odd way to calm someone.." Molly pointed out as her eyes scanned his face. There was concern deep within his eyes, something she'd never seen in regards to her before. It was new, surprising, and she found she enjoyed it a little bit. To know that Sherlock Holmes of all people cared for her was rather flattering. He pressed his lips against her forehead and she smiled, before snuggling back into his arms.  
"I should get up.. I have a case.." he smirked, though made no effort to move whatsoever. Molly's warmth was too inviting, too distracting. He'd solve the case in a few hours anyway, he could sacrifice a few more minutes.

"You're falling for her" John looked over at his best friend, a light smile on his face. He'd never seen Sherlock this way with anyone. He'd watched his friend over the past few weeks, how he'd taken care of Molly, taken her to a therapist, comforted her every night that she cried, held her until she slept and listened as she talked. John had noticed, Mycroft had noticed and even Lestrade had noticed. Sherlock Holmes had fallen in love.  
"What?"  
"Molly.. You're..." John sighed "in love". He'd expected Sherlock to deny it, protest too much as it were. He'd expected to receive a _'really, John, you know I have no interest in love, I'm married to my work'_. Instead, Sherlock gave a slight nod and sighed softly.  
"I don't know what to do" he admitted "For once in my life, I'm at a loss. I know nothing about.. Feelings" the very word was said with a sneer, as though he completely despised the idea of feeling anything. He missed the days of feeling nothing, the days before John moved in and made him more human. In fairness, Sherlock knew that even without John, Molly would have caused his frozen heart to melt. Eventually.  
"Just.. Stop trying to think logically about everything.. Try following your heart for once."

Molly smiled as she watched Sherlock fiddling with his microscope in the kitchen. Silently, she placed a mug of tea next to him before sitting down on the sofa, curling her feet beneath her. "How's the case?" she asked, running her fingers over the warm ceramic  
"Almost solved.."  
"Good"  
"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked without looking at her. He could feel her eyes focused on him, sending shivers down his spine. Oh Molly Hooper. How she did things to him. He wasn't sure he'd ever have realised how he felt about her if Moriarty hadn't stolen her from him.  
"Not really" she smiled, sipping at her own tea. She was beginning to feel like herself again, something she never thought she would again. Jim had nearly destroyed her, broken her down piece by piece, but Sherlock had helped, he'd fixed her, made her Molly Hooper again. It had taken nearly six months, but she was feeling human again.

"Why don't you take her out for a meal?" Lestrade suggested as he watched Sherlock examining a corpse. The detective grunted.  
"Too dull" Sherlock shrugged. Pretending to act indifferent to Molly while in public was hurting him in a way he'd never be able to understand. But he wouldn't let anyone know how much he cared, not after what Jim had done. No one would take his Molly away from him again.  
"Women like to be treated, Sherlock" Lestrade folded his arms. Sherlock really did have no idea, that had always been clear. But now that it was obvious that the Consulting Detective had deep feelings for the Forensic Pathologist, Lestrade thought he needed to give Sherlock a push in the right direction.  
"I'm sure..." Sherlock rolled his eyes, pulling out his compact magnifying glass "Now, do you want help with this case or not? I don't believe I was called here to discuss my private life"

Despite his protests, Sherlock took Lestrade's advice and took Molly out to dinner. He didn't see why not, they both needed to eat, after all, and he really was rather enjoying her company of late. He watched her as she ate, smiling at the cute way she nibbled on breadsticks. She really was perfect for him. He wasn't sure why he'd not noticed it before. He'd known Molly Hooper for over 5 years and this felt like the first time he'd ever really... noticed her.

She placed her dessert spoon down and smiled at him, watching as he paid the bill without tearing his eyes from her. She raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Is there some chocolate or something on my face?"  
"What? No.."  
"Then why are you staring at me?"  
"I'm... Committing your face to memory" he smiled, taking her hand in his, his thumbs lightly stroking her soft skin.  
"That's... Sweet?" she laughed softly, looking into his eyes.  
"I love you, Molly Hooper" he raised her hand to his lips, planting a loving kiss on the back of her hand. Her heart threw itself against her chest. Those were the words she'd been dying to hear from him for over 5 years, and here he was, saying them so very clearly, and so very publically.  
"I love you too" she smiled. Sherlock let go of her hand as his phone buzzed and pulled it out of his pocket, staring at the screen, a frown washing over his face.

_How sickly sweet. -Jim Moriarty x _


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean he's back?" Lestrade and John frowned as they looked up at Sherlock, their faces perfectly mirroring one another. The Consulting Detective was pacing the sitting room, his fingers pressed together, a frown on his face. Moriarty was clever, cunning and intelligent. It wouldn't do to underestimate him, not this time, not with her at risk. Sherlock passed his phone to Lestrade, the message still up on the screen. He'd not mentioned anything to Molly yet, he didn't need her worrying.  
"What if he comes back?" John looked between the two other men  
"We'll station a few men to watch the house.."  
"What's the point? They're all idiots.." Lestrade shook his head at Sherlock's words, before shrugging.  
"Then what do you suggest?"  
"I.. don't know.." Sherlock sighed, rubbing his temples. Quietly, he moved towards the computer desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out a box of nicotine patches and quickly placing one on his forearm, beside the one that was already there. "Whatever we do.. I don't want Molly knowing he's back."  
"Sherlock, she's going to find out.." the doctor sighed, glancing at his watch. They'd been going round in circles for over an hour now, and he was late for his date. Yes, often things were more important and this was certainly one of those things, but they were getting nowhere.  
"Not for a while.. She'll be with me."  
"All the time?" Lestrade asked as he rose to his feet.  
"Constantly."

He watched her closely as she lay back against the pile of pillows, reading. He wasn't sure how they'd gotten to the point where they were basically living together and sharing a bed without ever having a conversation about dating, it had just.. happened. In a way, Sherlock was thankful. Had it been a sudden thing, he'd probably have resisted it all completely until he'd driven her away. But slowly, he'd adapted to Molly being in his life, being his.. girlfriend.

"What are you reading?"  
"Lord of the Flies.."  
"Didn't you read that at school?"  
"Yes, but I was thinking about it the other day.. Thought I'd re-read.." he nodded and smiled, kissing her cheek softly. Molly placed the book on the bedside table and turned to press her lips to his, her fingers brushing over his cheek. She kissed him deeply, trailing her hands down his chest, lightly popping open his shirt buttons and pushing the thin material from his shoulders. Her lips trailed down his chest as her fingers unbuttoned his trousers, pushing them over his hips, continuing with his boxers until Sherlock Holmes lay naked beneath her. At the feel of her warm breath over his groin, something inside Sherlock came to life as her lips trailed over his neck, and he was surprised to find himself stirring in other places.

Her lips returned to his as his fingers ran up her night dress but Molly froze as she felt his erection pressed against her thigh. "What is it?" Sherlock whispered softly against her ear. She swallowed hard, looking at his face. "I just.. can't.. I'm sorry..." she pulled back, shaking slightly as flashbacks of her torture came flooding back. Sherlock grabbed his boxers and put them back on before pulling Molly into his arms, cuddling her.  
"It's fine Molly.. I don't know what came over me.."  
"Oh it wasn't you.. This.." she sighed, resting her head against his chest "I'm letting him win, aren't I?" Sherlock didn't answer, but simply pressed his lips against her temple. Molly looked up at him and shifted herself in his lap. so she was straddling his waist. Her eyes looked into his as she spoke softly  
"I don't want him to win.." she smiled as she lowered herself onto him, letting out a low moan as she felt Sherlock's length slowly slipping into her.

Sherlock remained still, not wanting to force Molly to do anything she didn't want to, but the urge to push up into her delicious warmth was growing too tempting to resist. Molly's eyes remained fixed on Sherlock's face as she slowly began to move upon him. She wanted to remind herself that it was Sherlock, it wasn't Jim or Sebastian, but the man she'd loved for years. His fingers ran down her back and she smiled softly, pressing her lips to his as her movements began to gain speed. She clenched around him, moaning softly against his lips and Sherlock couldn't hold off anymore. He began to raise his hips to meet hers, pushing deep into her, his hands holding her waist. She lost herself then, her thoughts disappearing completely, her worries and insecurities and horrid thoughts of Moran and Moriarty completely disappearing as Sherlock's body moulded with hers. They reached their climax together and lay panting heavily, Molly's face pressed against Sherlock's chest as it rose and fell rapidly. He brushed his fingers through her hair, holding her tight against his body as she closed her eyes, quietly drifting off to sleep.

Sherlock watched her sleep, his eyes drinking in every detail of the way she slept. She was perfect, his Molly Hooper, and she was his. He couldn't quite believe that his life had turned out this way, but he was so incredibly happy that it had. His eyes trailed over to the bedside table, his attention caught by his mobile phone as it lit up. He shifted gently, moving from beneath Molly without disturbing her, and picked up his mobile phone.

_When you're done playing with your girlfriend, come and play with me. St. Bart's. Do hurry. -Jim Moriarty x_


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock moved slowly up the steps towards the morgue. It seemed like the most sensible place to go, what with it being Molly's usual domain, and Sherlock had actually missed the coldness of the place. As he pushed open the door, he wasn't surprised to find the place completely empty. He instantly moved towards a nearby gurney, staring down at the corpse that had been discarded so carelessly while the pathologist in charge had gone off for lunch. This would never have happened when Molly was working. She'd eat into her lunch hour to make sure everyone was treated with the utmost respect, and Sherlock found himself frowning at how unprofessional the other morgue workers were when compared to his Molly Hooper.

"I wondered when you'd get here.." the voice caused Sherlock's blood to run cold, his stomach clenching as he struggled to maintain his calm demeanour. He turned from the corpse to look into the dark eyes of the one man who he actually found frightening. "You're late."  
"You didn't specify a time.." Sherlock held Moriarty's gaze, looking down at the shorter man with absolute contempt in his eyes. This man had taken his Molly, raped and tortured her, and now had the audacity to come here to taunt him.  
"No, but you're later than I thought you'd be."  
"I had things to do first." Sherlock straightened up a little, "Did you bring me here for a reason?"  
"I felt it was time we had a little chat.."

"You leave her alone.."  
"No deal.." Jim smirked, circling the detective like a shark circling it's prey. "Getting to her gets to you.. And I told you before. I'm going to b-"  
"Burn the heart out of me, yes.. How very dull."  
"If it's dull, we can always end it now.. One bullet, that's all it takes.."  
"Then shoot me already.." Sherlock rolled his eyes. He had no idea what he was going to do, he didn't have a plan. All he knew was that Jim holding this over his head was growing increasingly boring, and he had to do something to shake things up right then.  
"Oh no, I'm not going to shoot you.." Jim laughed, his laugh full of pure madness that actually caused a flicker of fear to run through Sherlock before he completely shrugged it off. "Tell me, Sherlock.. did you leave poor little Molly alone?"

_He'd read the text several times, frowning to himself as he did. Jim was luring him away from her, that was obvious. He must have known that John was out, Lestrade was busy and there was no one that he could leave to watch Molly. But Sherlock wasn't an idiot. Far from it. He quickly moved from the bed and made his way into the sitting room, pulling John's SIG-Sauer pistol from the top drawer of the desk and loading it. He woke Molly gently, quietly explaining his plan to her before pulling on his coat and slipping out of the door. _

Molly was half asleep when the bedroom door swung open. She instantly sat up, feeling for the pistol Sherlock had placed beneath her pillow. The feel of it's smooth handle did nothing to calm the fear that shook her as she looked up at someone she'd never wanted to see again. Sebastian Moran looked down at her, smirking.  
"Well, well, well.. look who's been left all alone.. Seems Sherlock doesn't care that much about you. Gone off to play with Jim and left poor Molly Hooper without any defence.."  
Molly shook her head. She had nothing to say, fear preventing her from even speaking. She watched as Moran slowly unbuttoned his shirt, his intentions obvious and terrifying. His shirt fell to the floor as he climbed onto the bed, and Molly very nearly threw up.

"Leave. Her. Alone." Sherlock growled as his fingers dug into the skin of Jim's throat as he pressed the madman against the wall. Their faces were inches apart and Sherlock found himself unnerved by the lack of fear in Jim's eyes as he stared into them.  
"Too late.." Jim laughed, not even struggling against Sherlock's grip.  
"What do you mean, too late?" he released his hold on Jim and stepped back, his brain kicking in. Of course. Molly had mentioned Moran, Jim's second in command, someone who could take Molly while Moriarty had the perfect alibi. He'd been with Sherlock the whole time after all. But then, Jim didn't usually care for alibis. No, this was all just them distracting Sherlock enough so that they had easy access to Molly Hooper. Without another word, Sherlock turned and fled from the hospital.

Moran gripped Molly's waist and pulled her towards him. She was still naked after her night with Sherlock and had been warm enough covered by his duvet. She was regretting it now. Seb chuckled as he slipped off his trousers, prying Molly's legs open and quickly forcing himself into her. She gasped lightly, partly out of shock, as she felt his entire length pushed quickly inside her, filling her. Seb closed his eyes, enjoying the fear radiating from the young pathologist, and the deliciousness as it combined with the silky smooth feel of being deep inside her. He'd not expected the cold metal against his forehead.

The taxi didn't move fast enough for his liking and Sherlock flew from the back door at record speed, throwing money at the driver. He ran up the stairs as quickly as he could, freezing at the door as the sound of gunshot filled the flat.


	6. Chapter 6

The street was practically chaotic when he arrived, but Mycroft Holmes was waved right through like he knew he would be. He stepped out of the sleek black car, and glanced around at the various officers who were scattered around in front of his younger brother's front door. An ambulance was taking up a large amount of room outside the front door. Mycroft glanced at it as he passed, sighing softly at the sight of the dark body bag in the back. Before he had chance to mentally assess it's size and possible contents, the back door was closed and it drove off.

He made his way into the building and up the stairs, passing several more police officers on his way.  
"Ah Gregory.." he greeted DCI Lestrade at the door to Sherlock's flat, "I trust it's all been cleaned up?". Lestrade turned and looked up at the government official, straightening himself up somewhat subconsciously.  
"Yes, yeah.. I, erm.. It's all taken care of, I don't see any problems arising in the future over this.."  
"Good good.. and if they do.. send them my way"  
"Yes, of course.."

"I wondered when you'd show up.." Sherlock handed his brother a mug of tea the instant Mycroft stepped across the threshold. Normally, he'd treat his brother with complete distain, but there had been very little fuss over the killing that had just occurred in his flat, and Sherlock couldn't help but think that Mycroft was completely responsible for that.  
"I-Thank you.." Mycroft frowned, oddly surprised by Sherlock's attitude. It was safe to say that Molly Hooper had changed his brother. "How is she?"  
"Shaken.. She's talking to Donovan."  
"Is that wise?" Mycroft sat down in his brother's arm chair, looking up at the consulting detective. "After last time.."  
"I've warned her.. If Molly gets upset, she'll have me to answer to"  
"Oh I'm sure she's terrified.." Mycroft rolled his eyes, Although he was half-mocking Sherlock, his brother's attitude when it came to protecting Molly has surprised him from the start, and Mycroft was sure that the man could become murderous if he needed to. He sipped at his tea, and watched his brother curiously. There was something on Sherlock's mind, and he was waiting for the minute his resolve would break and he'd finally admit what was bothering him.  
"I don't know how to bring her back from this.." he sighed, sinking into John's armchair, resting his face in his hands. Mycroft watched him, not moving. Comforting anyone was not Mycroft's strong point, and being comforted wasn't Sherlock's. "She.. he raped her again.. or he started to.. I- I don't understand.. I warned her he was coming.."  
"Fear.. is a funny thing, Sherlock.. It makes you lash out, I witnessed that when you were at school.." Mycroft leaned back in the chair, his eyes still fixed on his baby brother as he spoke "I suspect.. with Molly Hooper.. her fear of Moran prevented her from reacting at all. Although she knew what she wanted to do, what she should do.. she couldn't physically.. do it"  
"She did in the end.. She killed him.." "And that will be the part that takes her a while to get over.." Mycroft finished off his tea and placed the mug down, getting up from his seat. "I suggest you double her councilling session.. and just.. be there for her."

Mycroft gave his brother a reassuring hand squeeze before heading out of the flat and back into the car that had dropped him off, glancing up at the flat as the car moved away from Baker Street. They'd get through this, Sherlock and Molly, he was more sure of that than of anything.


	7. Chapter 7

He watched her sleep as he had done every night for the past two weeks. The way she looked when she slept warmed his heart in a way nothing before every had. She was perfect, Molly Hooper, but she didn't know it. In a way, that made her more perfect. His finger traced down her neck and she shifted silently. She had been through a lot these past two weeks, battling with the guilt of killing another human being, and the horror of having been attacked once more. She had nearly stopped blaming herself, though, and Sherlock was thankful for that.

He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder and she stirred, rolling to look up at him.  
"What time is it?" she asked, groggily, rubbing her eyes.  
"4am.." he replied softly, his fingers running up and down her arms.  
"Did you wake me up for a reason?"  
"I wanted to ask you a question.."  
"And it couldn't wait until morning?" she sighed, sitting herself up  
"Um.. no.." he smiled, taking her hands. "I.. want to marry you."  
"What?"  
"Will you marry me?"  
"No.. Sherlock.."  
"No?" he frowned, dropping her hands lightly  
"No, I didn't mean 'no' as an answer.." she rubbed her eyes lightly, shaking her head. "Are you serious?"  
"Very."  
"Really? Really really?"  
"Yes, Molly, I'm serious.." She laughed softly  
"Then, yes.. I'd love to marry you.."

Organising a wedding had done exactly what Sherlock had hoped when he'd asked. It had given Molly something else to focus on, so she wasn't constantly dwelling on the horrific things that had happened to her. He'd not thought it through, however. Not really. He thought it would be the two of them, an intimate little thing with, perhaps, John and Lestrade there. Maybe Mycroft. He'd not factored in Molly's desire to have her family there. Slowly the wedding was growing bigger and bigger until Sherlock was to dread it. He'd met her mother and managed to impress, rather than annoy her, which was always a good thing. He should have known that Molly would have had her dream wedding planned since the age of 6, but he knew nothing of the things little girls dreamt up during their games.  
"All you have to do is turn up wearing a suit" John had said "It's only 100 people, you've been around far more, it shouldn't be too daunting.". John, to his credit, had been brilliant. He'd kept Sherlock's feet relatively 'warm' and prevented him from running away, constantly reassuring him that it was definitely something he wanted or he wouldn't have proposed.

The day of the wedding was a completely different experience. He'd not expected the overwhelming nervousness he'd feel while everyone rushed around.  
"Nerves don't suit you, brother dear.." Mycroft chuckled softly as he entered the sitting room of 221b Baker Street dressed in his best suit.  
"Shut up, Mycroft.."  
"Sherlock-" John shook his head, straightening up his tie in the mirror.  
"I'll forgive you for that.. Come on.. the car is waiting. Mummy is dying to see her baby boy in a suit.."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, pulling on his coat.  
"You can't wear that.."  
"Why not?"  
"It's a WEDDING, Sherlock.." the younger Holmes sighed, slipping off his trademark coat and making his way downstairs with his brother and his best friend in tow.

Molly looked at herself in the mirror, almost in awe. She knew it was meant to be a rule that every bride looked beautiful on her wedding day, but the woman looking back at her in the mirror was someone she didn't recognise. Her long hair was curled lightly, tousled softly around her shoulders. Her make up done by professionals. Her dress was beautiful, satin with a sweetheart neckline and asymmetrical ruching across the bodice. It was embellished with silk flowers sprinkled with crystals. It was odd how she'd managed to come about it. She'd fallen in love with it when she'd tried it on, but it had been too expensive for her budget. The next day, it had been delivered, in her size, in a large box to the Morgue. She suspected it was Mycroft's doing, but nothing had been said.  
"Are you ready, darling?"  
"I'll be there in a minute, mum.. Just give me a few.." the door to the room closed and she inhaled deeply. So this was it. She was about to marry the man she'd been in love with for nearly six years. It was hard to believe that this was about to happen.

"Well, well, well.. don't you look gorgeous.." a soft Irish voice made her freeze, her insides clenching. _Please no.._ she thought to herself as she turned around, coming face to face with the man she'd never wanted to see again in her life.  
"Jim, please.. not again.."


	8. Chapter 8

"No.." she breathed as he approached her, his eyes dark and frightening. Molly stepped backwards, he wasn't going to come near her, not today. This was meant to be the happiest day of her life, and this man was going to ruin everything. Again. Her heart was in her throat as she felt the coldness of the mirror pressing against her bare back, and a shiver, not at all related to the cold, shot up her spine.  
"It's time this game ended, Molly Hooper.." he smirked as he pulled out a knife, pointing it threateningly towards her. "As a kid, I always wanted to be a butcher, you know.. Perhaps I might go into it after all.. I could always try it out on you.. See if I enjoy it.."  
She frowned as Jim stepped towards her once more, almost touching his, his hand reaching forward to grip her by the neck, everything seemingly happened in slow motion. Then there was a gunshot.

Jim stopped, his fingers inches from her throat. His eyes widened and he staggered slightly, dropping the knife to the floor before falling against her. She screamed as she felt the Irishman's body falling down hers, pulling at her dress, a large rip appearing at the waist.  
"That's why I made sure to order two" a cool voice drew her attention to the door, and she looked at the man, completely puzzled.

"Sherlock, stop it..." Violet Holmes frowned as she attempted, once more, to fix her son's hair in to some semblance of normality. His thick curls refused to calm themselves, dropping wherever they pleased. _What did it matter?_ he wondered. Molly liked his hair like this every other day, why wouldn't she like it today? He allowed his mother to try to comb it, mainly because Mycroft and John were both glaring at him when he struggled, as adults would glare at a naughty child. Once she was done 'taming' him, however, he simply shook his head, spoiling her work as his curls returned to their previous positions.  
"You're such a child.." Mycroft rolled his eyes, glancing out of the window as they approached the simple suburban church Molly Hooper had picked out. As a child, he'd been told, Molly had been a fairly religious person. Now, she wasn't religious at all, but she'd always wanted a proper church wedding, and Mycroft had decided that both she and Sherlock deserved to have the wedding they wanted. That was why he'd bought her the dress of her dreams.

"She's taking a while.." John muttered softly and Sherlock frowned. He was feeling nervous, and he didn't like it. He wasn't good with feelings and he wasn't sure how to handle them, especially here at a time when he couldn't just internalise everything. He was about to get married.. Or he would be, if she showed up. Why wouldn't she? It had been no secret that Molly had been in love with Sherlock for years.. Why would she throw that away? She wouldn't, not by choice.. something must be happening, Sherlock realised with a frown.

Luckily, at the exact same moment, Mycroft Holmes also realised the same thing. He'd known all along that Sherlock and Molly's wedding day would need high level security, but he also knew that nothing would stop James Moriarty. If he wanted to get to Molly, he would. So when the blushing bride didn't make her way down the aisle at the exact moment she'd planned to, Mycroft knew something was wrong. Quietly, he moved towards her dressing room, silently opening the door.  
"No.." he'd heard her say, before the door was fully open, and his breath caught in this throat. He watched through the crack in the door as Jim moved towards Molly, waiting for the right time, the moment where Jim couldn't fight back. The criminal moved forward, reaching out to touch her, and something inside Mycroft snapped. Without a second to think, he pulled a gun out of the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, aimed at the back of Jim's head, and pulled the trigger.

"The bride will be a few more minutes.. She's had a wardrobe malfunction.." Mycroft Holmes explained as he stood at the front of the church. A hushed whisper quickly filled the room, but he ignored it, moving towards his baby brother.  
"What really happened?" Sherlock frowned, noting Mycroft's expression. He knew when his brother was keeping things from him, he knew pretty much everything Mycroft was thinking most of the time.  
"James Moriarty.. But he's dealt with. He won't be bothering you two ever again.." he smiled, squeezing Sherlock's hand reassuringly before heading to sit next to his mother. Sherlock frowned. He'd get more information from Mycroft after the wedding, but right now, he had more pressing things to attend to. Such as Molly Hooper floating elegantly down the aisle.

She woke up to the sound of gentle music playing, her eyes slowly blinking open. He stood by the window, framed beautifully in the light and she shifted slightly in bed to get a better view. He'd not noticed her listening yet, or if he had, he'd not acknowledged it. She smiled to herself, glancing down at the silver coloured wedding band on her left hand, before closing her eyes and allowing his music to wash over her. She felt safe, finally. Secure. She had Sherlock Holmes, and she knew that now, nothing could hurt her.

**This chapter isn't as long as I wanted it to be, but I was desperate to get it out for you before I went away for Christmas so you didn't have to wait. Thanks for following this story, guys, and thanks a million to those of you who joined me here from Taking Molly. I hope you find the ending satisfactory, and I'm sorry for any feels you suffered due to me.**

**Merry Christmas, and a glorious, Sherlolly 2013.**


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